


Sharp grey sheep

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Instability, Self-Destruction, everyone is broken, modern au??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: so where is his little sheep?





	Sharp grey sheep

**Author's Note:**

> ive reunited with my personal, messy angst style, weeeee~~~  
> this shouldn’t be about this fandom and this ship, but ughhh -.- sorry  
> _  
> inspiration/you can blame:  
> [this](https://fairytalez.com/sharp-grey-sheep/)  
> [that](http://happylilprompts.tumblr.com/post/168788512319/kinda-creepy-prompts)  
> _  
> 12 "black" words

_No, no, no, no._

Henry thinks – oh my god, why did this happen to me, why me of all people, why me, _why me, why;_

This goddamn armchair is made of black-black leather, it digs into his thighs with its sharp dragon-like ribs, a little more and probably there will be blood. It’s already there at the wrists, tightly tied to the armrests: flows down with thin ruby streams, soaking in the fleece of obsidian-black carpet. The room is lost somewhere in thousands of shades of shadows, slides into geometric shapes, absorbs roundness, _devours_ a faint light from a dirty window.

Henry is scared, he’s so  _fucking_  scared. He can’t calm the clatter of his teeth, he can’t calm the sound of his heart, he is frightened by the pupilless eyes hiding in the corners;

_He doesn’t want to be here._

 

“Look, this cloud is like a sheep.”

“A gray sheep, a little gray sheep.”

“I want my sheep. We’d play day and night, we’d laugh and blow away the pollen from the field flowers; she’d feed and protect me, and I’d always shelter her from all eyes of the world.”

“You’re so silly...”

 

Rachel looks terribly older, Henry stares and cannot tear himself away from the black crescents under her eyes; from her pale hands with black earth under the colorless nails; from her disheveled raven hair, carelessly gathered in a bun. She smiles at him – warm and gently, like when they were kids, but only Henry knows _ohgodheknows_ that this is just a thin web of lies, black-black, twining his flat from floor to ceiling. She holds out a cup of mint or chamomile tea – smells disgusting, and Henry wants to pour all this _rot_ right on the floor, right with the cup; so that the fragments fly apart like feathers to collect them with trembling bloody hands.

_No, no, must not, you remember, the feathers are prickling, the birds are pecking, no, no._

 

What’s wrong with the phone?

Henry’s trembling fingers trying to dial a number, such a familiar and darling number, too _fucking_ darling; but he’s mistaken, but he misses, but there are only endless beeps on the other side;

And he has checked the damn wire thirty-three times _hecounted_ , but the wire is intact and not bitten, and not cut.

The next day, after the seventy-fifth time he asks Lanyon for help; grabs his sleeve in the stairwell and stubbornly pulls after him. Robert panics, Robert breaks out, Robert begs “say something, _ohgodHenrysayatleastsomething_ ”. Then he succumbs, allows himself to be dragged into the flat smelling of iodine, looks from Henry’s finger to the phone, closes his eyes. Counts, it seems _ten seconds_ , comes to Henry and gently takes his face in his palms (Henry allows this time, Henry is too curious what with the _fucking_ phone);

Lanyon’s eyes sparkle tearfully and he whispers “I’ll help, I’ll help, rest a bit, I’ll help, I’ll help.”

 

_How could this happen, how could this happen to him?_

Henry cannot move; high above him float black clouds, sheep, lazily waving their wolves’ tails. The ground beneath him is cold and damp and it’s also _heck_ bitter, he knows, he tried it. Now the hands are dirty and sheep don’t like it; they squint at him, disapproval and agony in the ruby eyes. Henry doesn’t like their eyes, they resemble his own – the ones he tried to cut out yesterday, because what for _useless things_.

Henry recently has begun to feel a strange slime in his head; as if memory gradually eluded him, little by little turning into a subtle black smoke. But he still remembers – his sheep had emerald, _emerald_ eyes

and

he lost them.

 

“I won’t lose you; I won’t leave you; I will always be there; they’ll never be able to separate us.”

 

Griffin already knows – Henry will bite off his fingers if he'll try to touch him. He doesn’t, pure fear in his eyes, mumbles under his nose that he’s a fool and shouldn’t agree. But Rachel begged so desperately, oh, she has to work, and Henry without people… Henry without anyone…

Griffin makes tea; Griffin wipes a black dust from the shelves; Griffin throws open the window shutters. Henry hisses, hisses worse than the thrown to a street, turned inside out cat; he curls on a black leather armchair, clutching at his hair and swinging lightly from side to side. Griffin was _warned_ ; he takes out an old fairytale book from the shelf and begins to read aloud. When Henry’s glance becomes more meaningful, he pushes a cup to him; he waits for its content to be drunk; he takes it to the kitchen;

And when he returns, he finds Henry asleep.

 

Rachel hides something from him; from this, her pale skin is like covered with livor mortis. She sits too straight and speaks to straight, and her _ugly_ curved lips tremble. Henry can’t concentrate on reality because the whole room breathes black smoke; exhales it directly to his face. Penetrating into the lungs, this smoke burns and unfolds them from the inside; Henry is _soohgodsobadly_ hurts, but he’s silent as he was yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and a week, a month, and a _year_ ago.

Rachel finally asks “will you go to visit the grave, today is the day, oh forgive me forgive me forgive.” What? - thinks Henry. What grave? - thinks Henry and;

Rachel sighs and the first _of many_ tears breaks down her cheek and she says “just don’t say I’ll have to remind you again.”

But what _who_

did he forget?

 

Henry’s losing his mind.


End file.
